The First Christmas that Harry Potter Actually Liv
by soulmatesDC
Summary: Harry is visited by unlikely guests, but no matter what, he's not dying. Harry::Draco Pre-Slash, kind of.


A/N: Written for _makeachange over on LiveJournal. Blatant disregard for most canon.

Enjoy and review.

Disclaimer: I own nothing.

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Harry Potter was sitting at his desk in his office at the end of the hall, wand tapping on the edge of his desk. It was rather quiet, what with most of his coworkers having already left for their homes. He was pretty sure his secretary was still there, because she usually came in to reprimand him for working too late before leaving for the evening.

Looking over his paperwork, Harry made a small change with his wand before signing his name at the bottom. Placing it into the pile going out, he began absent mindedly tapping his wand again, listening to the stack fold itself into paper airplanes before flying out of his open door.

"Harry James Potter! You know I don't like talking to your desk," Hermione yelled, making Harry jump slightly since he completely forgot she was speaking to him through his floo. Or more accurately, she was speaking to his desk.

"Sorry Mione," Harry said as he walked around his desk and knelt in front of his fireplace. "I'm just really busy and need to-"

"Enough," Hermione told him. "This isn't the first time I've been ignored and we both know it's not going to be the last." She gave him _that look_, the one that sent Ron to the couch and Harry feeling like he was twelve all over again. "And it's always the same with you, Harry. There's always another bad guy out there or another file to be looked over. You're going to burn yourself out."

"Hermione," Harry said in the voice he used to interrogate suspects, who usually cowered and spilled their guts afterwards.

"Harry," she responded, not affected in the least. "It's Christmas. And we miss you," she told him, voice softening in another approach. She sighed, continuing when he said nothing. "Can we expect you at the Burrow tomorrow? Or am I telling little Rosie that we have to owl your gift again?"

"I don't know," Harry said, not exactly meeting her eyes. They both knew he wasn't going to show up, this being the third year in a row. Hermione had never used Harry's goddaughter against him, and he knew that by this time next year she'd have another child to use to try and make him feel bad. Regardless, he still didn't plan on showing up to join in the holiday festivities.

He heard her sigh again, the embers crackling when she turned to look at something on her end. "Well, Happy Christmas Harry," she said. "I love you."

"Love you too," he mumbled, standing up and turning off his floo. He went back to his desk, staring at the top file for a couple of minutes before picking it up and reading it over.

About two and a half files later Harry heard his secretary walk into his office, once again without knocking. "Good evening Mr. Potter," she said, walking over to the plant by his enchanted window and waving her hand in the air above it. "Staying late" she observed.

"Mmhmm," he acknowledged, finishing the paragraph and looking up, startled yet again by the blinking lights on her dress. "I just a have couple more files to go through," he told her, gesturing to the rather large pile on his desk. "And how many times have I told you to call me Harry?" he asked, looking down again.

"But _Mr. Potter _is much more professional," she told him, tidying up the corner of his desk closest to her. He listened to her move around his office while he finished the current file, placing it into the _Out _box. A hand ran through his hair, not necessarily trying to tame it. "See you tomorrow," she told him, walking towards the door.

"You really don't have to come into the office," he said, reaching for the next file.

She laughed softly, pulling on her coat. "I meant at the Burrow," she clarified, waving her wand to turn off the candles in the area outside of Harry's office.

"Luna," he dragged out, not bothering to look up. "I know you were listening in on my conversation with Hermione."

"Merry Christmas Harry," she whispered, kissing the top of his head. He listened to her heels clicking on the floor as she made her way to his floo, no matter how many times he's told her that auror floos were not to be used for personal use. "And I took care of those Nargles for you," she said, just as she called out her destination and disappeared.

Several hours later, and only a couple of files left to be looked over, Harry emptied his mug, silently thanking the ministry elves, paid of course, for supplying him with tea during his late nights, which happened more often than they probably should. Not that he'd admit that, or agree. Yawning, he stood and grabbed his coat, wrapping his scarf around his neck a couple of times before dousing the lights with a wave of his hand.

He walked through the auror department, ignoring the decorations his coworkers put up for the holiday season. He couldn't understand the fuss they went through, with the garland and twinkling lights and mini Christmas trees. It was all a waste of space, time and energy, everything either thrown away or packed up until the same time next year, and every year after that. Really, there were more important things to be done, even if most of the decorations were done with a few choice words and a flick of the wrist.

Finally making it to the main lobby, Harry nodded his head at the night guard. He smiled a little, thinking someone had the right idea, working without complaint on the night before a holiday. And as he waited for the phone booth to bring him up to the street, Harry was grateful that good old Ben agreed that December 25th was just another day in the year.

Harry walked the couple of blocks to his flat, fighting the wind the entire way. It would have probably been easier for him to floo, but he had never learned the art of _not stumbling_ when he's reached his destination, and soot always scattered everywhere. Besides, now that he's been assigned a desk job, despite all of his protests, he figures the walk each day will help to keep him in shape, just in case.

It wasn't long before Harry was walking down his hallway, reaching the only door without a wreath or bough of holly hanging above. He unlocked his door, as well as taking down the wards, and entered his flat, tossing his keys on the table and his coat and scarf on the single hook next to the door.

Everything was just as it should be, nice and neat and no decorations to be found. There _was_ one box on the table, wrapped haphazardly in sparkling blue paper with enchanted snow flakes falling in disarray. Hermione clearly sent little Pig with Rose's gift for him after they got off the floo. And by Pete's disgruntled expression, Harry wondered if Pig ate all of the owl treats Harry left in the bowl that morning.

"I'm sorry," Harry told him, coming over and stroking the feathers on Pete's head. "Will delivering Rosie's gift make you feel better?" he asked, smiling slighting when Pete clicked his beak. Harry pulled the small package out of the drawers on the table, inspecting the plain red paper that was wrapped around the book, which was void of creases, shine or sparkles. He tied it carefully to Pete's leg, petting the owl once more before opening the window further. "I'll leave out some of those _Ice Mice_ that you like so much for when you get back."

Making his way into his kitchen, Harry grabbed the covered plate out of the icebox, another meal sent to him from Mrs. Weasley because she was worried he wasn't eating. He still couldn't figure out how they wound up in his flat, since his wards were never tripped and Pete wasn't able to open his icebox. Regardless, it was a home cooked meal that just needed reheating and left him more time for his work. So, settling himself at his small kitchen table, he _accio_ed the files from his coat pocket, working on them through the forkfuls of food he barely tasted, and ignoring the chimes coming from his floo.

Hours later, another six files completed and _Ice Mice_ in Pete's bowl, Harry had made his way into his bedroom. It was early still, just barely after eleven, but he wanted to wake early and head into the office. With no one there Harry figured he'd be able to get a lot of work completed, and he couldn't pass up an opportunity like that. Changing into pajamas, dousing the lights and taking off his glasses, Harry lay underneath his covers, falling asleep within minutes.

"_Ooooh_" came from the hallway outside Harry's bedroom, pulling Harry from his sleep. Something dragging across the floor and chains rattling came next, causing Harry to roll over and look towards his open door. "_Oooooh_," traveled from the grey blur across the room, followed again by the metallic noises.

"Huh?" Harry rubbed his eyes, squinting slightly when the shape came closer.

The blur glided towards him, tripping when it was almost near the foot of the bed. "Damn it" the blur said, Harry recognizing the voice.

"George?" Harry asked, sitting up and reaching for his glasses. "How'd you get in here?"

The blur stood up, sharpened into a see through George Weasley now that Harry had his glasses on.

"Not George," he said, throwing off the chains tied around him, and they disappeared right through the floor. Two ghostly hands reached up to _not_ George's face, removing both ears from it's head and tossing them into the air. "See, two ears!" he exclaimed, placing them back onto his head, not exactly in the right place.

Harry removed his glasses, rubbed his eyes, and put his glasses back on. The _thing_ was still there, apparently not George Weasley, grinning from one ear to the other. "Fred?" Harry finally asked, not exactly believing it.

"The one and only," Fred said, bowing slighting and tipping an ear in Harry's direction. "And here I was, thinking you completely forgot about me," Fred pouted.

"Fred?" Harry asked again, because he honestly couldn't wrap his head around the fact that the deceased Fred Weasley was standing at the foot of his bed, smiling and moving his ears around on his head until they were just right. Because all of the Weasleys were so heartbroken when Fred died, and it took them forever to get over it. Even longer for George and Percy, who spent almost a year looking for his spirit, hoping (and not hoping) they'd find him. So Fred's ghost couldn't possibly be in his room, since they were all convinced he passed on to wherever the deceased went.

"For the love of," Fred whispered, walking forward to stand above Harry, right through the bed and Harry's chest. "Listen," he said, pointing his finger in Harry's face, making Harry's eyes cross to look at the ethereal hand. "Something needs to happen and it needs to happen now. I don't want you ending up like me," he said sadly, gesturing to himself.

Harry blinked, looked up at Fred's face, and blinked again. "I'm dying?"

Fred's hand came forward so fast Harry didn't see it coming. And when Fred flicked him, Harry actually feeling the finger connect with his forehead, Harry was so shocked he sat up in bed, bring himself face to face with Fred. "Ow."

"Not dead, stupid. I meant _regretting_," Fred warned.

"Huh?"

"Ugh," Fred threw up his arms, turning around and walking away from Harry. "Hopeless, bloody hopeless."

Harry watched as Fred walked through the wall, talking to himself the entire time, and Harry thought he might have heard Fred giggle about something about someone 'knocking it into his skull'. Deciding it had to be a dream, probably from feeling bad about not getting enough work completed, he fell back and turned over, not bothering to remove his glasses before he fell asleep for the second time that night.

"Harry, baby, wake up," the soft melody coming from the side of his bed. A breeze blew near him, shifting his hair slightly, making it feel like a hand was running through it. The feeling was so comforting that he burrowed a bit deeper into his pillow, sighing slightly when the wind kept moving.

"Harry," the voice came again, closer than before. "Wake up Harry."

"Mmm," was Harry's response, rubbing his face into the pillow before turning over and opening his eyes. The room was clear, since he still had his glasses on from earlier, though they were slightly skewed. His room seemed a bit brighter than normal, like a glowing film was stuck to his glasses. Taking them off, he rubbed the lenses on his shirt, glancing up as he was bringing the glasses up to his face. "Wha?!" he yelled, scooting backwards and falling off the side of his bed.

"Harry," the ghost on the other side of the room called. "It's just me."

Peering over the side of the bed, glasses haphazardly thrown onto his face, Harry stared open mouthed at the ghostly form. "Mom?" he asked, as if he hadn't had every line of her face memorized since he was eleven and was shown a picture of her.

She smiled, and Harry swore she got a little brighter. "Yes dear," she said as she came around the bed.

"Wha-" he started, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. "But, why are you here? Fred said I wasn't dying," he told Lily, sitting up.

Looking up, Lily scowled, the wisps that made up her face tightening. "Fred Weasley, you had better master invisibility by the time I'm done here." Looking back at Harry, Lily was smiling, holding out her hand towards him. "Come on, I have to show you something."

"My death?" Harry said, pulling back just inches from her hand, afraid his would go right through her own.

"Don't be silly," she smiled, reaching out and grasping his hand, making the room spin around them. Everything settled almost instantaneously, bringing them into a familiar living room. They stood there, watching the scene play out in front of them.

"So, um, what exactly are we doing here?" Harry asked, gesturing in front of them. "I kind of have to get up early," he told Lily.

"Hush," she waved a hand in front of his face, watching the family in the living room closely.

Harry saw a small family: mother, father and son. They were all smiling and laughing and there was colorful paper strewn everywhere. The little boy was playing with his new toys while his parents were watching from near the tree. However, looking closer, Harry noticed another person in the room. A little boy in clothes too big and no socks on his feet was standing right outside the room, like there was an invisible bubble preventing him from joining the holiday cheer.

"I'm sorry," Harry heard Lily whisper, just as the three people noticed the secluded boy.

"Oh," the woman said, and you couldn't mistake the disgust in her voice as anything else. "Here," she said, tossing the little boy a torn magazine sitting on the table, barely stifling her laughter when he didn't catch it and had to go after it. "Happy Christmas."

"Thank you Aunt Petunia."

The smile on the boy's face was so big it was almost blinding, making Harry's heart ache a bit because he just realized it was himself at about four. He watched himself settle down on the bottom step of the stairs, opening up the magazine with wide eyes. The magazine was brought a little closer to his face, since he had obviously not yet had his eyes checked.

"I can't," Lily barely got out before grabbing Harry's wrist and making the room spin again.

"Mom?" Harry asked when they were once again back in his bedroom.

"I love you," she told him, with tears in her eyes and a small smile on her face. "I didn't know it was going to be like that. I'm so sorry."

"I know. And I love you too," he told her, reaching up to wipe a tear away, but his hand went right through her cheek.

"I'm supposed to show you more, but it's too hard. You were always so good and didn't let anything bad corrupt you." Lily brought her own hand up to his face, but didn't touch him. "Just know how strong you were and how far you've come," she told him. "Your father and I are so proud," she leaned forward and Harry could just make out her scent. "But things _have_ to change," she said just before she kissed his forehead, and then she disappeared.

"Weird," Harry said a little later, lying down and staring at the ceiling.

"POTTER!" someone bellowed, making Harry jump up and fall off the bed. "Get up!"

"I am up," he grumbled, pulling himself onto the bed, before falling off again. "What?!" he asked, completely shocked at who was in his room.

"Listen up Potter, because I don't want to be here any longer than I have to." the deceased Severus Snape told him, somehow stalking over to him when both Fred and Lily seemed to glide. "You're dead."

"What?" Harry asked, hand coming up to his chest to feel if he had a heartbeat.

Severus rolled his eyes, "Not literally you idiot." Harry scooted back when Severus walked towards him, scowling face just as he remembered. "You aren't living. Day in and day out and nothing changes. The war is over, you won, so _do _something with your life. We all didn't die so you can waste away." He brought his face closer, practically inches from Harry's face. "So live, unless you want me to haunt you." He smiled, ghostly crooked teeth peeking out, before he turned and walked through the closed door.

Splashing his face, Harry rubbed his eyes before passing a towel to remove the excess water. "Hallucinogenic potion," he decided, putting on his glasses and peering at his reflection, checking his pupils. "I'll have to ask Lisa about it on Monday." Flicking the switch, he walked back to his room, turning off the light before turning towards his bed.

"Hiya Harry," Draco Malfoy smiled from his position at the foot of Harry's bed. He was holding a book in his hand, playing with the frayed binding.

"Draco? What're doing here?"

"Helping," Draco said simply, gesturing for Harry to sit besides him. When Harry sat down, Draco opened the book, which turned out to be a photo album. "If you don't change-"

"Not you too!" Harry whined, shoulders slumping. "Wait a minute," he turned to look at Draco, leaning closer and squinting his eyes. "You're not dead."

"I could be," Draco huffed. "You probably wouldn't even know if I've been dead for weeks."

"Of course I'd know," Harry told him, making Draco smile. "You bother me at work every single day, going on and on and on about so and so's outfit or someone else's weight gain or-"

"Enough," Draco cut him off, lower lip pouted slightly. "Anyway, I'm still here to show you what'll happen if you don't stop moping around and learn to live your life."

"I do not mope!"

"Stop interrupting." Lifting the photo album, Draco continued. "Ah, a good place to start," he said, showing Harry the first picture. "So here's that adorable goddaughter of yours' fifth birthday party, with all of her little friends from the Muggle school she'll be attending. There's Hermione and the Weasel, Rose's grandparents, George and Luna and their little Frederick," Draco pointed to the respective people as the wizarding photo played out, mentioning some people Harry knew didn't exist yet. "And there's yours truly, holding Rose's little brother Hugo. Ugh, I'll try to talk Hermione out of that terrible name for months, but that woman will not budge. Poor kid."

A little confused, Harry watched the photo replay, smiling as little Rose danced across page, her pink dress twirling around her.

"And here we have Arthur's inauguration party, for when he becomes minister."

"Minister?" Harry asked, a little surprised.

"Oh yes, a couple of years from now," Draco clarified. "Look at how Molly's practically beaming." And again Draco pointed out people, making random comments here and there.

"Wait a second," Harry stopped Draco, just as he turned the picture and Harry caught a glimpse of what he thought was Teddy Lupin on a beach with a woman in a wedding dress. "Shouldn't you be taking me to these places? And wearing a black cloak and pretending to be death?"

"Huh?"

"You know, like that Muggle story? _A Christmas Carol_ or something? That's what this is all about, isn't it? I knew it all seemed familiar." Harry explained. "You should be showing me my death and how no one will care."

Draco whacked Harry with the photo album.

"Ow," Harry complained, rubbing his head. "What was that for?"

"For being stupid. What is wrong with you? Like no one will care if you die. You're the bloody _Boy Who Lived_. Like throngs of people won't show up at your funeral." Draco's anger surprised Harry slightly, because the thought of his death shouldn't upset this _Death_ Draco.

"Well, you didn't have to hit me so hard," Harry said, still rubbing at the throbbing heartbeat he could feel at the back of his skull.

"Well you clearly won't get it until someone beats it into you." Draco opened the book again, starting at the picture of Teddy. "Here's Teddy's wedding, where he made us all, including my mother who burns easily, go to the Bahamas for it. And here's Ginny and Dean's first child's naming ceremony. And here's the opening for Neville's flower shop, specializing in potion's ingredients and named after Snape." Draco was clearly angry, spouting things about the people in the photographs and flipping quickly through the album, making the faces blur.

"And did you notice anything missing from these pictures Harry?" Draco asked, flipping back to the beginning and quickly flipping through them all. When Harry didn't say anything, or look like he was going to say anything soon, Draco's face turned red and he stood up, pacing in front of the bed.

"You! You insufferable, frustrating, bad dressing, can't buy a comb, Gryffindor." Draco kept walking, tossing out insults without even looking at Harry. "And do you know what? We all keep sending you invitations and cards during the holidays and Birthday presents and anything and everything to keep you involved. I can't even count how many times I will try to get you to come out with me. But no, you're in your own little world where nothing exists but work and bad guys and _nothing else_!"

Draco turned to face Harry, and the haunted look in his eyes scared Harry a little bit. "It's been years since you defeated Voldemort, and you haven't really lived this whole time. You're not dying Harry, but you're killing us," he told him, pointing to the book on the bed. "Because we all care about you so much and you don't care at all." Draco pulled something out of his pocket, tossing it to Harry.

It was a picture of himself, at his desk, clearly working on a rather large file. Several people came in and out, trying to get a conversation out of Harry, who barely looked up for a greeting.

"Please Harry," Draco said, voice small and sounding far away. The Draco in the picture, some years older than the one in his room, was trying to talk to the Harry in the picture, ruffling his hair and pouring Harry tea and trying to not show how much it hurt that Harry didn't even look up. "Please don't turn into that."

"I-" Harry began, looking up only to find Draco gone and himself alone. Looking down he realized the picture wasn't there anymore either, but in it's place was his gift from Rose. Ripping off the wrapping paper, Harry stared at a picture of himself and Rose. She was young, maybe a year old, and kept pulling off Harry's glasses, trying to put them on her own face. Harry was smiling and Rose was giggling and Harry thought it was the best gift he's ever received.

His wand started vibrating, alerting Harry to the time and that he planned on going into the office in an hour. Waving his hand, the wand stopped moving and he headed to the bathroom to shower. After bathing, dressing and making sure he had his wand, he rushed out of his flat, quickly throwing up his wards.

_Ding Dong_

"Doo'bell!" Rose screamed, rushing towards the front door of the Burrow.

Ron caught her first, swinging her up into his arms as he made his way to the door with her, tickling her as he opened the door.

"Harry?" Ron asked genuinely surprised at seeing him.

"Happy Christmas Ron," Harry smiled, reaching for Rose and tossing her up in the air, noisily kissing her cheeks when she came back down. He pulled a stuffed elephant with a bright red bow tied around it's neck from inside his coat, the thing almost the size of his goddaughter. "Happy Christmas Rose," he told her, rubbing the elephant's trunk on her nose.

"Unca Hawwy!" she giggled, dragging the elephant towards Hermione, who was sitting on the couch, mouth opened wide and tears glistening in her eyes. "Lookie mommy."

"Very nice," she said, hugging Harry tightly when he came over and dropped a kiss on her cheek.

Harry went around the room, hugging and kissing and wishing everyone a nice holiday. He was a little shocked to see both Draco and Narcissa there, with Teddy bouncing on his great aunt's lap. Trying to bring up the night before to Draco left Harry with more questions than answers, since it was apparent he had no idea what Harry was talking about.

A couple of hours and many smiles later, Harry grabbed his coat and headed for the door.

"Where are you going?" Molly asked, as she was flicking her wand at the torn wrapping paper all over the floor.

"I have to go to the Ministry for a little bit," he said, lifting other coats from the hooks and looking around on the floor.

"You're going in to work?" Draco asked, disappointment coloring his words.

"Not exactly," Luna answered for Harry, wrapping his scarf around his neck. She smiled, handing him a covered plate and giving him a hug before pushing him towards the front door. George came up behind her, wrapping his arms around her, protecting her from the cold air coming in through the open door. "See you in a couple hours," she called after him.

Shaking off the snow that gathered on his shoulders, Harry walked across the lobby and towards the security guard's desk.

"Happy Christmas Ben," Harry said cheerfully, taking off his coat and taking the seat next to the elderly guard. Ben smiled, big and bright. Harry handed over the plate, watching as Ben dug into the homemade food as Harry made conversation.

Fred watched from the fountain, smiling as Harry spoke with the lonely guard on Christmas day.

"Oh Fred," he heard behind him, smile widening when he saw Lily.

"Hello," he said, winking at her.

"James better not catch you doing that," she warned, making him chuckle. She glided towards him, smile a little too innocent. "What was the one thing you were supposed to do?" she asked.

"Uh…"

"You were supposed to inform Harry that we'd be visiting him last night, and explain that no matter what he wasn't _dying_ anytime soon." She watched Fred wince, backing away slowly. "What I want to know if why Harry thought he was dying when each and every one of us visited him?"

"I, uh… Well, you see, um." Fred was looking around, trying to find an excuse. "Snape was mean!" was what he came up with.

Looking up, Lily scowled for the second time that night. "Oh don't worry, Severus is going to get it next." Facing Fred again, she watched as Fred went through the wall, rolling her eyes because she knew she'd catch him, eventually.


End file.
